The Debt
by Kerchan
Summary: K/S. In Progress. If only the crew knew what Jim Kirk had to do to remain their captain.
1. Chapter 1

**The Debt**

A/N: Just something I began writing to satisfy certain emotional needs. A little dark. Might not end darkly, however. Suggestions are welcome! Thank you for reading!

*****A/N EDIT:***** After some reviews (and only on the first chapter. Heh), I feel it is necessary to list more warning to ensure this theme (which I assumed while writing it was not as dark as it is actually taken to be) is disclosed as thoroughly as possible for potential readers. Please read the warnings below closely and read with caution if any of the provided themes disturb you. More warnings may be added as the story updates.

**Warnings:** Adult Content, Angst, Abuse, D/s, Kink, Non-con/Dub-con (potentially rape)

...

The Debt

Chapter One

…

If Jim was to be completely honest, he'd admit his ignorance over whatever transpired on behalf of his quick promotion to captain. Whatever was done was done, as far as he was concerned anyway. In truth, Jim knew as much about Starfleet's under-the-table regulations about as well as he knew how to handle a rough situation without resorting to fists. Diplomatic training be damned should he ever find a reason _not_ to, but that was just frustration and pent up bullshit more than any indication of his actual tact with diplomacy. From what he was told, he was actually quite charming and easy to persuade. That was good to hear, he carelessly shrugged, but damn it all to hell if it hadn't been what ignited the catastrophe in the first place.

Oh? You mean you _don__'__t_ know? Of course no one knew. Jim had made sure the seal on that particular piece of career-shattering Watergate was wrapped in titanium and fired out of a canon. Into space, if possible. If his crew knew what he had to do to remain their captain—Jim didn't want to think about that. The fact that stood clear was that despite that Jim knew nothing about _how_ it had happened, he knew _who_ had done it for him. Colour him surprised when he had discovered the culprit from the very source.

…Spock.

Jim remembered it like a bitter taste of betrayal. He was two weeks into his first mission as captain of the _Enterprise_ and Jim was about as happy as a—well, as a guy who had just made captain. Saving Earth hadn't exactly compensated for the fact that he'd lost Vulcan, but nevertheless, eternal gratitude from those who still had family on Earth had earned him the much appreciated respect Jim assumed came standard with captaincy (or would). Had he not been the one deploying the commands, he was sure that they'd be firing spitballs at the back of his head, rolling their eyes, or belaying orders out of spite should he have still (somehow) made captain. It was cocky, but yeah, it felt good to know so many were thankful for his naturally sharp tongue and quick reflexes.

Or at least, the _honest_ ones were thankful.

Now Jim understood that he and Spock had a beef with the other, and that it revolved around his merry-go-round hacking attempt at a test that just begged for Jim to fuck it into submission. He also knew that Spock, as a vulcan, was the type that surrendered to honesty due to its logic. Which was why, when all seemed bleak and like they were going to die in an oxygen-necessary explosion in the vacuum of space, Spock had kneeled to the logic of his trust and command during the _Narada_ Crisis, as they were calling it. Vulcans were logical. They did everything for a logical purpose. And Jim had foolishly thought he was the only exception to the rule.

Jim reflected upon the moment Spock had come aboard his ship, asking permission, and how Jim smiled at that like a school boy getting extra recess time. Hopes heightened by an older vulcan that swore by all that was logical and perfect that he and Spock were best of buddies in everywhere of everything. Hah. He'd actually let his guard down and shit. And it was his charm, patience, and understanding that had made the impossible shake Jim's foundation of a command team.

Two weeks into it and already Jim was discovering for himself just how much the universe hated him. It'd been a relatively calm day transporting goods for vulcan refugees in the nearby sector when Jim received a hail on the bridge.

"_Captain,__"_ it was Spock's voice, _"__I __request __your __presence __in __Conference __Room __3.__"_ The order left no room for argument which was offensively surprising because the last time he checked, _he_ was the one with the captain's braids. He got _requested_ to areas and he _approved_ those requests. No one told him to go fucking anywhere unless he was incapable of making those choices. Or it was urgent. There had been little time for anything urgent to occur, and as much as Jim wanted to believe Spock was just testing him with his new authority, he decided to disregard the suspicion and assume it was actually urgent.

Both ended up being correct.

Jim turned into Conference Room 3 leisurely. He didn't want it to seem like he'd left the bridge right after receiving the call. The faces of the bridge crew fixed in their own suspicions had been enough of a punch in the dignity. The door parted, he entered, the door shut and locked behind him. The lock hadn't been authorized.

The conference room was small, decorated with only a round table and several chairs surrounding a small holoscreen presented in the middle. Spock had stood the moment he entered. The person on the screen, however, remained seated. It wasn't just because he was partially handicapped either; Jim just wasn't Admiral Pike's superior.

Jim switched glances between the two men. "Is there a problem? You were rather vague, Mr. Spock."

Spock didn't flinch. He stood like a statue next to Pike's pixel form completely undeterred by his captain's scrutiny. If that wasn't insolence, Jim wasn't sure what was.

"I requested you, captain, by the request of the admiral."

He turned to Pike. "Why didn't you hail me personally? In my quarters?" Jim asked Pike, then added a small 'sir' on the end for good measure. Pike stared at him in a way that he'd never seen before. Even through the subspace of hailing frequencies, Jim could tell his pupils were dilated and his breathing a little heavy.

"The admiral will not be speaking." Spock answered for Pike, and the admiral gave a nod in agreement. "It is a rule, I am afraid, of the debt code." Jim stared at him with question. Spock continued. "I would list the code for you, but that would be uneasy since these codes are unwritten and only passed discreetly between those persons involved."

Jim felt his palms begin to sweat. He clenched them subconsciously. "What's going on?" He demanded.

Spock raised a single brow, as though everything was quite clear. It wasn't and it was pissing Jim off. "Tell me, captain, did you ever ask Admiral Nogura why he approved your promotion?"

If hearts could sink, Jim's was definitely falling into his stomach right now. "No."

Spock nodded tersely. "Of course not. You see, your promotion was not just an act of desperation on failed recruitment quota, nor was it for your act of bravery or servitude to Starfleet." He paused, looking Jim straight in the eyes as he said, "You became captain because _I_ personally requested it from the admiral. And he does not give without his price."

"Ex-excuse me?" Jim's knees felt suddenly very weak.

"You heard me correctly." Spock told him highly. "I wanted you to become captain and I knew that it would not be given to you without certain… debts." The vulcan stepped in front of the holocom and lifted up the hem of his science blue uniform, exposing the belt on his black slacks. He reached for the buckle and undid the strap. Jim, surprised and confused, moved back until he struck the locked door. What the hell…?

Spock's eyes narrowed with his brows. "Your reaction is expected. Nevertheless, captain, you have no choice on this matter."

"No choice?" Jim got out.

Spock nodded. "In order for you to remain captain, I must repay my debt to the admiral. He has stated his preferred payment. In addition, by the same codes, you are now indebted to me and I agree to this payment for it also appeals to my own preference."

Jim groped the door, feeling his stomach turn as his mind began to fit the pieces together. "I'm not following." He lied. That made Pike smile on the screen and Spock removed his belt with one pull and tossed it on the table.

"Perhaps, this will explain in a manner you are more familiar." His fingers removed the clasp of his pants and dropped the zipper. Jim gulped. His throat tightened considerably. There was no way this was happening. Jim watched in awe when his fears were met. Spock didn't stop until he gently removed a green organ from the opening. Jim gasped and violently turned away, focusing instead on the door. His face burned and his back felt hot with eyes boring holes into him.

"Mr. Spock, I'll remind you that sexual harassment is worthy of discharge on my ship." Jim grunted, feeling his jaw harden and his legs lock up. "I'll only give you one warning. But, if you put _that_ away, I'll turn a cheek to this and you may return to your duties on the grounds that it will not happen again."

"I do not think you understand what I meant when I said that you have no choice, captain." Spock said behind him in a voice that made his skin chill. "By the debt code—"

"I've never heard of your _fucking __debt __code!_" Jim shouted at the door. The room went eerily silent after that. It took him a few moments to regain his composure and understand all that was happening.

"Do you want to remain captain of the _Enterprise_?" Spock asked in a calm, gentle tone. Not at all like a guy standing behind his superior with his intimacy exposed.

Jim snorted.

"Yes, of course you do." Spock answered for him. "Then you will turn around and perform the task. Because if you do not, the admiral will give his word to Admiral Nogura and your promotion will be as it should have been the day you stowed-away on this ship—null. Discharged. Fully."

His throat drew in air on dry channels. His tongue could do little except lick his lips and remind himself that he wasn't suffocating. Plastered against the door, his hands trembled and his spine twitched. This wasn't what it looked like. This wasn't what it sounded like. This had to be a horrible dream! He was going to wake up any second now and have a good laugh before diving head first into sickbay and ordering Bones to give him a full psyche scan. There was just no—

It took more force than it should have given that Jim considered himself a remotely strong man, but finally, he glanced over his shoulder and saw that Spock was still standing there, holding himself in full in front of an admiral that was beginning to faintly brighten on his cheeks. Both looked impatient. Jim cringed.

It was _real_.

Sluggishly, his hand went to his mouth. He didn't know if it was to keep him from being sick or to stop him from cursing out loud. Or maybe it was for neither. He had so many questions and very few answers. Inside, Jim'd always assumed that something had been passed under the table at Starfleet to secure his irrational promotion. Saving the Earth didn't mean he was ready for the responsibility of command. He knew that. But never in his life did he dream that the phrase 'who's dick did you suck' would actually apply in a setting he thought stood for justice and peace. Was no organization free from the filthy hand of bribery?

He straightened himself up, pulling down his gold uniform and rolling his shoulders to mask his growing discomfort. He turned. Before he did (or didn't do) anything, he was going to get some answers. First being, what the hell was the debt code?

Spock began to calmly explain. He must have been the only guy in the universe who could have a causal conversation about dirty tactics while holding on to his dick with little deflation. "The debt code was established by Admiral Nogura's predecessor in favour for giving brash, demeaning debt to those who wanted to skip over the queue for proper endorsement. If one wished to be above all others, his or her dignity must be sacrificed to compensate. Crude, but surprisingly effective to keep hot-headed officers in line. It also reduced bribery and favouritism, though one would assume it would have done otherwise."

Did he have to stroke himself while saying that? Jim's face felt increasingly hot. Determinedly, he kept his eyes at bay, completely focusing on this surprising exposure of words instead of body.

"So, what are the rules, then?" His voice barely squeaked.

"Simple. Whoever grants you what you desire most, you are indebted to them and must repay that debt until the initial party is satisfied. It should come as no surprise that most of these debts stem into sexual requests. Humans are fond of forbidden taboo."

Yeah, that made sense. Most of Starfleet officers were human males. "And if the debt is refused?"

"Should the person in debt refuse, what was given or was supposed to be given, will simply be taken away. There are no other consequences. It is more of a matter of how much you desire the proposition."

That brought Jim's stomach back. He could just refuse and _this_ would be gone. "Alright. So let me see if I understand this correctly. From what I've gathered, you asked him," Jim pointed at Pike, "to make me captain of the _Enterprise_."

"Correct."

"He accepted on the grounds of—this." His arms waved to the embarrassing scene.

"Correct."

"And what _is_ this exactly?"

Spock stared at him mutely, his mouth forming a soft line as though he wanted to smile. Eyes flashed hot into Jim's range and bore deeply into his windows of shame. "The requested payment is that the admiral wishes to observe punishment. He feels that you have been given too many slaps on the wrists for your actions and that your ego is much too inflated for an admirable Starfleet captain. In order to make you a better commanding officer, he has asked that I 'wash your mouth out'. With force, of course." Jim felt himself stiffen.

"You're going to mouth-fuck me, you mean."

Spock nodded. "That is essentially the idea. Yes."

"And if I refuse, I'll lose my command?"

"Correct."

"Wow," Jim nervously laughed, bringing a sliver of confusion into Spock and Pike, "I don't know whether to be disgusted or flattered."

"Both are acceptable reactions."

Jim shot him a nasty glare. "Yeah. You must have some logical reason for all this bullshit, though. I mean, you don't exactly scream sexual deviant there, Spock. You want me to be captain for some other reason, don't you? You're repaying this debt to" he almost said Pike, but choked over it, "_him_ because it's a worthy price to pay for something bigger." Spock kept watching him darkly. "I'm right, aren't I?"

"My reasons stand apart from this debt."

"That's a yes then."

"Need I remind you that your command is depending on whether or not you drop to your knees, captain?"

Jim laughed, no longer feeling shameful about seeing a vulcan dick waiting for him. "And you're both riding on the idea that being captain means more to me than my pride!" He all but shouted through a chuckle. "For all you know, I'm going to decline and take my petty demotion than suck your dick for a pervert's pleasure!" A shadow suddenly cast over him and a long, slender hand pinned itself to Jim's neck. It wasn't harsh, nor angry. It was gentle, telling, and powerful all at once.

"What are you going to do, Spock?" Jim gasped at him, looking up from the mild hold, "Face-rape me?"

"That will not be necessary." Spock responded. "You are going to take me willingly."

His voice was laced with defiance. "What makes you so sure?"

Spock's grip tightened. "Because I _know_ that finally standing apart from your father, instead of lurking in his shadow, means more to you than any dignity." Blue eyes went wide. Deep ones crinkled in the corners, knowing that they'd hit their target. "If you lose your command, you will go back to what you were before. The son of a hero that crumbled under the pressure of his heritage. Your name forgotten. Your deeds out-weighed by those that take your place.

"What will they think when the great James Kirk is demoted from captain so soon after his bravery? What will your mother think of you? The scandal. And if your father were still alive, he would be asham—"

"_Stop_." Neither Jim nor Spock had spoken it. From the holoscreen was Pike's pixel features tangled in grim lines. Spock looked at him pointedly.

"Admiral… your voice can not be heard for this debt."

"I know the debt rules, Mr. Spock. I don't need a reminder." The vulcan went silent. "I asked you to rape his mouth, not his mind. Let the boy decide for himself if his pride is worth this price. The contenders must be free to accept or decline the terms without persuasion. My voice may go on record, but I highly doubt Nogura will hold it against me. You, however, Mr. Spock, he may not be so kind to. Release Kirk and let him make the decision."

The vulcan dropped his grip and promptly Jim slid down the wall and fell on to his knees. Spock was right, after all. No matter if it was against some unspoken rule or not, Spock was right. The vulcan called his bluff and won. The intimidation was only for self purpose satisfactory. Spock had known the moment he called him that he wasn't going to decline. It was just a sad realization that Jim hadn't known his answer until that moment.

_Do I go back to being the shadow of a dead man? Is it worth it by comparison? Lose everything… just because I won't—_

Aliens, ghosts, or even some unknown cosmic deity must have possessed his hands, because the next thing Jim was aware of was that he had inched forward on his knees and had wrapped his hands around the steely green organ.

"I'd lose everything." He whispered to the foreign phallus. "It would all be meaningless."

A cool hand touched his chin and brought his eyes up. "Is it worth it?" Spock asked him in a tone unlike what he'd used earlier.

"I don't know what the hell you have planned," Jim grumbled, starting to stroke the organ awkwardly into a stiff state, "and frankly, I'm offended that you thought I couldn't get it on my own and took it upon yourself to intervene." He looked back at the phallus in his grip and gritted his teeth to keep himself from vomiting at the sight of the head pearling fluid at the tip. "Even so, I've got what I want more than anything right now. And if sucking you balls-deep assures I keep it, then dignity be damned." He opened his mouth and hesitantly breathed on him, "I just hope you're proud of yourself, commander. Now, you tell _me_ if it's worth it."

Whatever response Spock might have given was drowned out by the hissing of Jim's heart in his ears. Immediately, he pulled the erection into his mouth and timidly closed his lips around it. Spock gave an inaudible groan.

For a moment, Jim thought he was just going to bob his head back and forth for a while. Nope, that would have made this all too easy. After a few sucks, long fingers gripped his head, pulled his hair, and then the vulcan cock was slammed into his mouth, touching the back of his throat and making him choke. The captain tried to pull away. Vulcan strength kept him in place.

It was the longest moment of his life.

It ended when Jim's jaw was sore, his lips plushly bruised and vulcan semen was splattered on to his face cruelly. Spock released his head casually and Jim dropped to the floor with a thud. He managed to catch himself on his hands, but even they felt used and abused. He nearly collapsed, gasping, coughing, covered in sticky white.

"Your debt has been repaid in full. You are released from our terms, Mr. Spock." The holoscreen clicked off in a hurry. Jim stared at the sparkling clean floor, noting how many drops of thick cum were falling from him to dirty it. He didn't look up. A pair of slicked, glossy boots approached him and stopped before him.

"And now that I am no longer obligated, captain, it is time that I set _my_ terms for _your_ debt." Jim didn't speak. He spat a thick load of spit and semen at Spock's polished boots. "Yes. I imagine that this will be most entertaining."

Jim was never told the underlying reason why Spock wanted to make him captain. What was worse, Jim couldn't demote the fucker considering his debt and the power Spock held over his position of power. In a sense, it became quite clear that Spock was the real captain of the _Enterprise_, despite that Jim was the face. Fortunately, after the terms were set, Spock became more reliant as an officer, he listened well and didn't actually disregard orders or try to undermine him in anyway. Still, the fact that he _could_ on the grounds of discharge was pretty fucking petty. Not to mention, it was only a matter of time before Spock used that card on him. If it didn't happen today, it'd happen tomorrow, or the next day, or the next.

Was it odd that that worried him more than the actual terms of their agreement? Possibly. Then again, prior to his agreement, he had been mouth-fucked in front of Admiral Pike like a road side whore. That may have hindered his judgment on the matter, or maybe he just naturally didn't give a fuck anymore. Regardless, Jim was a stubborn man. No matter what he had to give up, he was the captain and he planned to stay that way in the face of danger—or in this case—Spock's sexual needs.

"The terms are as follows: 1) You are bound to your debt until I release you from it. You can dismiss the debt at any time for closure. 2) If you dismiss the debt, I will have your captaincy revoked. You will have twenty-four hours to change your mind prior to my call. 3) You will meet me in any area I specify for sexual congress of my choosing until I am satisfied. If no location is disclosed, then you are to assume the standard meeting area of my quarters. 4) Any unwarranted harm brought to me during our payment will also revoke your captaincy without delay. 5) You will tell no one of your debt to me unless it is vital information for them to be aware. Do you understand?"

Jim crawled backwards and fell against the back wall, lazily lolling himself into a comfortable position. His head felt heavy, his limbs shaken. "Personal fuck toy, gotcha." He grumbled out, not making eye contact.

"Do you accept the terms of the debt code?"

In that moment it was like everything was perfectly clear. "Yeah." He whispered through his clenched teeth, "I accept."

Never in his life would Jim ever have thought Spock was capable of merciless fucking. The fact that Spock and Uhura were still dating was unknown except to maybe him and Mr. Scott. Did she know about her boyfriend's payment preference? Or was she just not putting out enough for him and Spock needed both sexes to be completely satisfied? The reasons were blurred between lines of duty, vulcanism, and sexual desires. Shit, Jim wished he knew why this was happening. Was it revenge for losing Vulcan? Was it for shit-talking his mother? For hitting on his girlfriend? Maybe for cheating on the _Kobayashi __Maru_? Fuck it, he didn't know. And Spock, in true vulcan fashion, kept it from him. Like the evil, sadistic bastard he was.

Sometimes, he wondered if there was a reason at all…

…

…

The _Enterprise_ had just finished making a delivery to a nearby refugee camp. It was a two day trip back to Earth for more supplies which left little free time for the crew.

"We are most thankful for your speed and resources, Captain Kirk." Dr. Selunok said over the viewscreen. Jim nodded from his command chair, a grin tugging on him smoothly. Genuine sincerity always warmed his heart.

"It's no problem. We'll be back in five days time with the second load."

"Thank you." The screen cut out. A small, cool hand placed itself on Jim's shoulder. He stiffened under its touch instinctively as the fingers dug into his soft skin. Spock wanted his attention.

"Something you need, Mr. Spock?" Jim asked as casually as he could. No one besides himself and Spock knew about the terms of his debt. Spock didn't give a reply. He raised his brow expectedly and returned to his post. That was Spockese for 'get to my quarters as soon as possible'. With a light gulp, Jim turned to his helmsmen and smiled.

"Mr. Sulu, you have the conn."

"Yes, sir."

He often thought these tiny little signals and frequent disappearances from both him and Spock were noticeable or at least used as rumours around the ship by now. It was surprising that no one ever commented on the matter. But that could have just been because he was the captain and how often did you hear about captain's getting raped by their subordinates? Was he intentionally looking for someone to call out to help him? Someone to notice and make it go away? He wasn't sure. Perhaps Jim was just paranoid.

Quickly, he finished last second tasks and entered the turbolift. In a few minutes, Spock would join him and they would have their usual pre-lunch romp. It was amazing that they had managed all their duties while finding time for sex. What really set the bar for the amazement was that Spock was both the Chief of Science and the First Officer on the ship. That was two jobs normally handled by two people and Spock was doing them both effortlessly with time to sleep, eat, and fuck.

Some time ago, a part of him was hoping that the combined duties would wear the vulcan down to the point that the seemingly endless string of booty calls would drip into a trickle. He later stopped that ridiculous hoping when he was reminded over and over again by that hard, aching vulcan cock shoved up his ass that vulcans, unlike humans, have a god mode. True or not, it seemed like a life-hack anyway.

Jim approached his quarters and entered as he usually did. This was out of habit by now, because when they first began their payment installations, he had decided to go straight to Spock's quarters through the guy's front door. Once Spock realized he was directly entering the firepit of hell by its front door, he was quick to point out how illogical it was and stupid. How it left the passersby room to wander and start unwanted rumours. Jim didn't take it nearly as seriously as Spock wanted him, and that got him more than just a hard fucking. It came clear that evening that Spock's sexual tastes weren't just limited to sex alone—oh, no—Jim learned that night the guy really was sadistic.

Jim shuddered at the reminder. Needless to say, he took orders seriously about how they did their payments after that. That had been months ago, and still his body burned from where he remembered the deep red wax had touched his flesh while Spock pounded his ass with more intensity than usual.

Doing exactly as told, Jim sonic showered quickly in preparation and entered Spock's cabin through their shared bathroom. Convenient, that was.

He sat on the vulcan's bed, removed his towel-robe and got the lubricant from the bedside table. Habit drew his preparation time in half and before Spock arrived, he was completely ready for another debt-fuck. Really, he didn't much need the lubricant anymore besides to smooth the first entry. At this point, his body had been so well screwed that he was practically numb to it as well as pliant. Heh. Jim couldn't remember his last erection, let alone the last time he could masturbate.

He lied down and opened his legs, poking at his soft human penis and trying to will it to life. Another failure.

"Yeah, I know, little buddy." Jim told his cock, giving it a gentle stroke to no avail, "I wanna go limp and flop around too. For once, without Spock's help thank you."

A door opened loudly, startling Jim up from his position on the bed. The low lighting from the room cast a mesh shadow over Jim's body from the bed alcove. The dark figure entered without hesitation and made idle work of his uniform. Within seconds, a hungry, hard vulcan was crawling on to the bed like a lithe cat bent on killing its prey.

Jim swallowed whatever was in his throat. This was, undoubtedly, going to be just like all the other times. Cruel, hard, fast, and embarrassing. The little pride he had left was to blame for that last one. It was like, no matter how many times they bedded, he still managed to feel deeply embarrassed about something. The most notable being that Spock never liked the idea of Jim's flaccid response and would, ninety-percent of the time, point it out.

Spock mounted him like a lion, entered smoothly and pounded him into the bed. Jim held himself up on all fours, taking the blunt force into his spine. The bed rocked and the wall behind the headboard was beginning to dip in the place where the headboard kept smacking it. A true testament to how much action the bed saw regularly.

Pressure formed on his thighs as the vulcan got a better grip. He leaned over Jim's back and let his hands roam the front of his fuck toy. Soon, a hand brushed his unmanly disposition.

The thumping stopped.

"Problem?" Jim got out in a breath.

"You are not aroused." Spock told him blankly. Jim dropped his head and looked down at his penis like he was in legitimate shock.

"Oh my god, Spock! Would you look at that! It must be the result of how many fucks I give, which, from the looks of it, appears to be about zero." He thrust backwards and shoved Spock slightly towards the end of the bed, making him take Jim's hips to keep himself steady. "Now, finish fucking me so I can go eat and pretend I live a normal life!"

Spock ignored his demand. "Why are you not aroused?"

This was stupid! Jim sighed and sagged on to his front, keeping his bottom tilted in the air since the vulcan was still deep inside him. His face buried in the sheets, what he said came out in a mumble.

"Pardon?" Spock asked.

Jim forced his head to the side and grunted. "I said, if I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, _this __doesn__'__t __get __me __off!_"

"I see."

Jim rolled his eyes. "You see!" He mocked. "No, you don't see, because if you did, you'd quit asking why I'm floppy as a bunny every time you fuck me stupid!" Spock was silent behind him. Apparently he had gone into thought. Jim sighed heavily.

"You got fifteen minutes to finish," Jim bit off, "that is, if you feel like letting me eat today." A shift was felt on the bed. Spock had come out of his thought and resumed his position. Fingers gripped him tightly to the point of bruising. Oh great, he'd done pissed him off.

"I do not approve of your tone." Spock reprimanded. "I must admit that I have been slack lately with your punishments. You are talking far too much and not begging quite like how I want." Jim frowned at that. "No, James Kirk, you will not be eating lunch today. Instead, you will practice your begging while I tend to matters elsewhere." The vulcan cock slid out of him with a long suctioned pop. Jim sat upright and watched as Spock removed himself from the bed. He was gone for only a few moments when he returned fully clothed and with a large, nude phallic sex toy and his personal laptop computer. He dropped the toy less than ceremoniously on the bed and turned on the computer.

"While I am away, I will watch your efforts from the private camera. You will not know when I am watching, so please, do your best at all times. It will be most unfortunate if I have to return earlier than I would like just to punish you." Jim took up the toy in his hand and had already begun to lick it and prepare it for his ass with about as much enthusiasm as he typically reserved for Spock's sick camera games.

Spock stood and placed the laptop on his desk, turning it towards the bed's direction. When fully satisfied with its location, he turned to his victim. "You are to practice your manners. Pretend the toy is myself and beg me to let you cum." He started for the door, certain that Jim understood what he expected. He stopped just short of the motion sensor. "Oh, and, one more requirement."

"I'm listening," Jim said around a mouthful of wet plastic.

Spock looked back only once, "You are no longer to refer to me by name while we exchange your payment. From now on you will refer to me… as your master." Jim choked on the toy and pulled it out quickly. His cheeks brightening.

"Are you _shitting_ me!" Jim coughed. "Aren't you debasing me enough?" A small twinkle shined behind those dark eyes—a vulcan's version of a smile, Jim had come to understand.

"'Aren't you debasing me enough', _Master_." Spock replied in a voice that meant Jim better adhere to the new rules. Jim forced the toy back into his mouth to keep himself from shouting as many vulgarities as he knew. And some he wanted to invent in that precise moment. "Practice it, captain. I _will_ be watching." And with that, he left. The door shut snuggly against its frame. Jim removed the toy and slammed face first into the warm pillows, kicking and screaming like a little kid during a tantrum.

"You mother-fuckin', cock sucking, cunt licking, ass munching, cold, vulcan son of a BITCH!" He fisted the sheets and only then realized that he had been caught on the camera. Defiantly, he turned his head towards the running computer and sneered. "—_Master._" He added with spite. Then without further he could do until his lunch break was over, Jim settled himself up on his knees and aligned the toy with himself.

"Oh, _please_ _Master_, let me _cum!_" He gritted with hardly any real feel to it and more dramatic bullshit. "Fuck, I hate you," he added under his breath, staring daggers into the camera, hoping the live feed was being watched at that very moment, "Hate you so much."

…


	2. Chapter 2

The Debt

Chapter Two

…

Commander Spock's quarters was only a metre smaller than Jim's. That knowledge could only be gained by someone who spent enough time in both areas to tell the minute differences in floor planning. Though probably more of a size constraint and not for much else, the metre was more likely to be a disposable technical error since any other starship command team would tell you that the rooms were practically the same. And truthfully, they were the same in regards to build, though each was considerably different when compared to personal choices in decoration.

Though Jim had seen enough of Spock's quarters to make a technical manual on vulcan interior design preferences, and could have spent all day charting how many vulcan weapons a wall could get away with before becoming a potential ship-wide threat, the fact was that he wasn't in there at the moment to care to do so. Never mind about boring himself with tedious vulcan knickknacks (he just concluded that all vulcan artifacts were made with the premeditated motive to be scary as shit). And the thing was, he was supposed be there—right now—but he was not. And it wasn't because of something captain related, as Spock often let slide should it interrupt any of their—_ahem_—activities. Nope, actually, Jim wasn't in the vulcan hell simply because he didn't feel like it.

Spock had ordered him there over an hour ago and Jim just straight up said 'fuck it' and ran off somewhere into the ship. Of course, Spock didn't know that, or didn't know it at the time, but it was probably clear the moment he went to his quarters and saw that his fuck toy decided to make a break for it like that shit was on fire.

Jim wasn't concerned with the consequences at this point. Nothing seemed worse than waiting for his 'master' to come and drill him into the floor for the second time that day.

Today, Spock must have been in a pretty bad mood because maybe Jim wouldn't have run off had the first two payments not been so damn rough.

The morning sex was the first tip off. Typically, Spock would go into their shared bathroom, get in the sonic shower and order Jim to wait by the sinks until he was finished. After that, he'd lift him up on to the bathroom wall and have his way. Jim, naturally, would shower next. But today, he hadn't waited at all. Feeling a little more adventurous than usual, he ordered Jim to come into the shower while he was in it and suck him off. It wasn't so bad until it turned into another face-rape. Jim's jaw was still stinging from what he thought was a pulled muscle.

Then the pre-lunch sex. Often quick and simple. All Jim had to do was either hold up or lie down and let Spock do his thing. Roughly ten to twenty minutes, then he could go have lunch and get back to work. But again, today, Spock didn't feel like keeping moderate routine. In place of faceless, meaningless sex, the commander had called him down to one of science labs. Once there, Jim found himself as an addition to an ongoing experiment.

Apparently, the commander was doing a paper on electrical circuitry using a new green energy that would recycle far better than their current system. It still had some bugs to work out. Logically, the only way to test that the boards were working properly was to attach them to Jim's body. _Shit._ For half an hour Jim lay strapped to a counter-top while Spock maliciously let equal small and mild currents run through his nipples, belly button, fingers, and toes. Not enough to actually cause any damage, but enough to make Jim's eyes wet from frustration and anger. The closest feeling Jim could match it to was probably tiny jellyfish stings igniting all over his skin. Baby jellyfish, that didn't know when to end their victim's suffering yet.

Once released, Jim felt like a battery-operated toy that had just lost its juice. He tingled in strange places and wondered distantly if that had been a form of sex or if Spock just wanted to observe how long a human male (with a case of extreme stubbornness) would last until his resolve broke into tears. Either way, he was more than happy to get out of there. Thinking back on it, he thought he may have broken something on the way out. He'd been in _that_ much of a blind hurry.

And finally, at shift's end, was the after dinner sexcapade. Now, this one was almost always naturally brutal compared to the others, so if Spock was in a bad mood, damn it if he didn't have the right to think showing up for this one might kill him. It seemed like a good idea at the time—just fucking _run_. Hide in numbers. Busy himself until he dropped from fatigue and they kept him in sickbay. Anywhere was better than Spock's quarters. And Jim, yeah, he was determined. So the first place he thought that would be a great place to hide ended up being a good idea, because it had kept Spock off his tail for over an hour.

That place was the ship's botanic garden.

The door to the garden was automatic like the rest of the _Enterprise_'s doors. That didn't stop Jim from barging in like he was being chased (he wasn't, but it was a wise assumption) and slam it shut with his entire body. He'd run all the way from the turbolift the moment he was sure his shift was over and he could safely avoid contact. Cargo-layovers didn't leave much for a captain to do, so he could avoid duty for a few hours and with that—Spock. All he had to do was lay low. Simple, right?

"Oh! Welcome, captain!" Heart attack was an understatement for what Jim felt course through his chest. Considering that if Spock caught him now, he might as well be dead, he felt justified to react with an over-dramatic twirl in the direction of the voice with his hands ready to punch something. What greeted him wasn't Spock (thankfully), it was the helmsman Lt. Sulu, and planting a strange purple-dotted flora at the moment.

"Oh, it's just you, Mr. Sulu." He breathed under his lips. "Er—yes, thank you. Uh," he paused, judging Sulu's progress with the plant, "need any help?"

Hikaru Sulu stared at him for a moment before he gave a gentle laugh. "With Abbey? No, sir. She's just getting her first taste of synthetic soil, is all. Beauty, isn't she?" Like a mother cooing at her baby, Sulu reached up and tickled the flowering dotted bulb with his fingers. Surprisingly, the bloom reacted by sneezing rainbows of glitter. Jim was uncertain if flowers were supposed to do that, while Sulu continued to laugh and pet 'Abbey' like he was praising a cute little dog.

"She's two years old today." Sulu went on to say. "Had her since she was just a tadpole seed." Yeah, Jim didn't know shit about plants.

"Tadpole seed?" He approached Sulu and his plant, which began to look bigger as he got closer. It must have been at least four feet tall with a soccer ball sized bulb.

"Well, they're not really tadpoles, sir," Sulu went on, stroking the deep red/purple stem of Abbey whilst lightly pruning her of smaller leaves, "they just look like them because they have a long tail that sways when a certain temperature is exposed to them." That actually sounded pretty cool, given that Jim had never heard of a seed like that before.

"Does the swaying do anything?"

Sulu nodded. "It enables them to move to warmer soil. Some _Unguis__Purpura_ seeds have been observed traveling over eight-hundred kilometres to find warmer soil. They're tough."

"I see." Jim smiled. "Where are they native?" That simple question opened up a plethora of all kinds of information. No one had ever taken as much interest in botany as a hobby quite like Hikaru Sulu, as far as Jim knew, and he'd personally requested Dr. Burkes for his astute knowledge in the field. And all that was strange to Jim because how Sulu described his knowledge was exceptionally fun and he couldn't think of a reason why Sulu didn't have his own galactic gardening show by now. He made Jim want to take up flower-potting as a hobby. Hell, maybe start the _Enterprise_ gardeners club. Wouldn't he just look silly in a large straw hat topped with a bonnet?

"…and that's why you shouldn't give water to mimosian plant nymphs." Sulu finished and Jim chuckled, slapping Sulu on the back as both men had a go. He could have been in conversation with his helmsman for hours and he wouldn't have noticed. Who knew his pilot knew so much about flowers?

"Goddamn, don't let anybody ever say you can't make dirty jokes about plants." He smiled, both he and Sulu taking a bench somewhere in the centre of the garden. They'd walked as Sulu gave him the grand tour, from the simple Earth rose ("…known on Earth as a romantic symbol even though its prickles hurt very much when left un-thorned…") to more majestic beauties like the Denebian doryx ("…ever seen a passion flower on Earth? Same thing, except these will give sweet honey drops in exchange for a kiss…"). It was amazing that Jim had been down there a dozen times and never understood the true beauty behind the ecosystem artificially created and maintained there. His compliments to the botanists and hobbyist alike. It was a calming scenic walk and a science program all wrapped into one. When the laughter died down, Jim flicked his eyes up as he noticed a purple dotted plant sneezing rainbows somewhere next to the artificial pond.

"Does she always do that?" Jim asked. Sulu looked to where he was watching and shook his head.

"That's not Abbey, if that's what you mean. She's near the side gate because she's more domestic than Ryuujin over there. He's a bit nasty. Likes to blow his pollen on anything that gets within range."

Jim grimaced. "Sounds like someone I know." His mind's eye tried not to picture the other day when Spock forced him to take another cum-shot to the face, open-mouthed and 'begging'. Sulu curiously looked up when Jim fell silent. He nervously laughed. For what it was worth, Jim was a real shitty liar. He tried to cover it up before Sulu could ask. "So what's wrong with Ryuujin?"

Sulu shrugged, "Nothing's wrong with him, he's just a pervert." he provided playfully, almost a little _too_ playfully. "Older than Abbey, I got him as a full grown adult. Planted him four weeks ago where Abbey is now before I moved him over there. It was because he took a liking to Lt. White and kept spilling his pollen on her every time she came in to do routine moisture scans." He smothered a laugh, "Every week I saw her leaving with rainbow-spotted clumps sticking in her hair. Funny thing is, she wasn't the one who asked me to move him."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," he sighed, leaning back and feeling relaxed in his captain's company, "it appears that she has a rare allergic reaction to _Unguis__Purpura_ pollen. It could have killed her if someone hadn't told me to move him. I didn't even know! Completely caught off guard when Mr. Spock delivered her fourth sickbay report and he told me to move him."

Jim felt his gut twist. "Mr. Spock? He actually _helped_ someone?"

"Of course!" Sulu told him like the idea of 'Spock' and 'help' being in the same sentence wasn't absurd. "He's a bit silent and doesn't really come here often unless he needs to test some experiment he's working on, but he's always willing to lend a hand. Just the other day he made sure my request for synthetic Vulcan sand was put through. We have a few vulcan vegetables and herbs that are grown right here in the botanic garden. Without the proper soil, they'd die off."

Jim's brow settled. "I'm glad to he's on top of things." Sulu caught the lowered murmur. He sat forward and shook his hands wildly in protest.

"Uh, no offense to you, sir! I mean, I did place that request with you but I figured maybe someone with more time could handle it."

He raised his brows and looked at his helmsman oddly. "More time? Didn't I just spend an evening with you discussing flora?"

Sulu began to blush. The reminder that Jim was his captain was coming back to him. "Well, it's just that…" he searched for words, "I _assumed_ you had little time to look at everything since you've been leaving the bridge more frequently." He sighed. So, people _were_ noticing then. "I'm sorry if that's not the case, I just didn't want to unnecessarily overwhelm you with something that could have easily been approved by someone else."

Jim felt his face heat and his body twitch. "I'm the _captain_. Everything eventually filters through _me_ regardless."

That made the helmsman jump. "I'm sorry, sir. I spoke out of turn without permission. Apologies." He stood from the bench and gave a salute. Jim stared at him dumbfounded, looking at the guy like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. And that was true in a sense. He didn't mean to get snappy about something as small as a soil request. But then, what else had he missed because of his debt? What else was Spock brushing over him that he was completely unaware? He pressed fingers to his temples and looked away, giving Sulu a reassuring gesture.

"There's no need for that, Mr. Sulu. It's fine. I'm just frustrated from all the time I don't seem to have."

Silence, and then, "That is rather unfortunate," came a sudden calm, monotone voice. It wrapped him in ice and Jim felt his heart stop and his legs lock. He didn't want to look up from the bench. He absolutely wasn't going to. He dared himself to briefly try a glance and immediately regretted it. Vulcan features came into focus. Spock continued like he hadn't noticed Jim's reaction. "I am pleased that you have found time to socialize with the crew, even with your busy schedule, captain. It is a good example to set and strengthens morale."

Taken off guard, Jim did the first thing that twitched into his reflexes. He crossed his legs and leaned back against the wooden bench, lacing his fingers over one knee and forcing a grin to his first officer's direction. "I'm so glad you approve, Mr. Spock, considering you like to hog my time all for _yourself_."

Spock placed his hands gently behind his back and studied his captain, noting the interested look on Mr. Sulu's face between them. This was common. Most of the crew still thought that he and Spock were on shaky terms after their fight on the bridge during the _Narada_ Crisis. Spock and Jim simply rolled with it. It didn't help, but it didn't hurt either.

"A captain and first officer must work as a close team." Spock went on to say, "It is efficient, even if it is not desirable." Jim was the only one who caught the undertone in that sentence. It spoke volumes to trained ears. To anyone else it would have sounded like Spock's normal bridge voice, talking about the weather on some planet, maybe, but Jim knew. _Knew_, he was pissed. And foolishly Jim had forgotten about why he'd come to the botanic garden to begin with.

"Humans aren't _that_ difficult, are they, Commander?" Jim asked, trying to sound playful instead of confrontational. More for Sulu's sake than his own.

Spock responded accordingly. "For the most part, they are predictable creatures. I would say that I have had the honour of meeting only a select few that have managed to break all statistics regarding logical function."

Jim snickered to himself. "Doesn't that just break balls?" Spock didn't reply (perhaps confused by the turn of phrase) while Sulu began to laugh. He forced himself into a coughing halt when Spock shot a sideways glance. Well, at least someone thought it was funny.

"Mr. Sulu, is it true that you have a report due this evening for Dr. Burkes?" It was like a sudden light came on in the helmsman. He gasped.

"Thank you for the reminder, Mr. Spock! I'd almost forgotten. Excuse me, sirs." With a quick salute to his superiors, he dashed off, none the wiser that he'd just sealed his captain's fate. Jim felt himself attempt to spring forward, reaching out to stop Sulu before he could get away, but it too late. The helmsman had darted off too quickly. Really, it almost looked like Sulu had _wanted_ to have an excuse to leave. A rock formed in his stomach. Spock had clearly done that on purpose. With no witnesses, all bets were off.

In an attempt to keep himself from sneering in frustration, Jim forced himself to relax on the bench, drop his knees and hands, then peer at Spock beneath harsh brows. "Over one-hundred and eighty-six thousand square metres of starship… and you still found me. I'm impressed."

"You are the captain. It is not so difficult a task to locate such an important superior."

Jim scoffed and looked away, focusing instead on the artificial pond. He felt his stubbornness beginning to ebb under the pressure of Spock's gaze. The vulcan hadn't stopped staring at him yet. When the silence dragged on, Jim looked back at him, eyes hard and meeting coal cruelty. "Why are you here?"

Spock was prepared, of course, just for that. "That is an illogical question." he told him mutely. "You know why I am here, captain."

The captain pushed his fingers through his hair and sighed, giving his bottom lip a small bite. "Come to take me back, yeah?"

The reply was hesitated. "You ran away."

Jim's wasn't. "Admittedly."

"Why?" Jim looked up at him like he had just recited the entire periodic table. Was he _serious?_Did he really just…?

A burn lined in the pit of his stomach and frothed a wave of emotion at the ignorance. "Why? _Why?_" Jim gave a startling, airy snort, "You're seriously asking me _why_ I ran away?"

Spock slowly nodded. "That _is_ what I asked."

Jim gaped at him in awe. He fell back into the bench, leaning over his spread knees in frustration. "You're so smart, why don't _you_ figure it out?" Jim shot at him resolutely, suddenly changing his mind and rising from the bench. Spock was four inches taller than him, and though that didn't sound like much, it put Jim eye-level with Spock's nose. Jim wasn't short, Spock was just tall. He confronted him with growing fury. "I mean, it can't be _that_ hard, can it? Here, how about I make it a little clearer for you, oh my dear vulcan _master_!" He harshly pointed his finger into Spock's chest. "You're a—a—_MONSTER_!" He bellowed loudly enough for his voice to echo off the distant walls of the garden. "A Grade-A asshole dribbled in vicious bullshit, sealed and resold in the two-faced package of ambiguous vulcan _logic!_"

Spock remained unmoved by the captain's shout. His face retained its stoic presentation even as Jim's resolve grew into uncontrolled flames. He began counting off his fingers brashly, "You're cold, mean, not to mention _cruel_; sick, twisted, and I fucking ran away because I damn well felt like it, _OKAY?_" He shoved Spock harshly, not at all surprised that the taller, denser man didn't budge. "I wanted nothing more than to get away from _you_!" He threw his hands into the air and spun around to control himself. His breathing escalated and his fingers twitched like they wanted to grab something. It was safe to assume it was Spock's neck.

He tried to calm himself down. Taking breaths and gulping down whatever had hardened in his throat. His eyes stung. His heart was pounding. Damn it all! He was going to cry, wasn't he?

Before Jim could accept defeat by the painful stress of misery, two strong arms wrapped themselves around his body from behind and held him in place. A wet something began to trace his nape to his ear and Jim shivered from the disgusting knowledge that a hardened object was beginning to throb on his backside. He couldn't move and he couldn't run. Jim sagged into the grip unwillingly.

"You are in pain…" He heard the vulcan ghost into his ear like rough pebbles smoothing over sand. Almost as though he cared. It chilled his spine and made his legs wobble. "…I find that—_arousing_."

"You're a sick fuck." Jim muttered. His throat felt sore from the yelling. And it hadn't even done him any good. It only made the commander grip him in a vice that was all vulcan strength and prod his ass insistently with a hardened, hidden erection. The same one that made him suffer, that made him weep. That kept replenishing his constant state of despair just when he thought it was all a dream and he could wake up now.

"Are you curious why I did not come for you sooner?" Spock laved at the shell of his rounded ear, enjoying the unwilled vibrations of fear and disgust trifling the captain. He didn't wait for a reply. "I let you escape, James Kirk, because I knew that once you felt safe, anticipation would crumble your strength. You would be _vulnerable_." Spock began to grope his front and grind his backside in quick successions. Jim felt like he was going to be sick.

"God, Spock, please…" Jim got out, "please, just stop."

"Please, what?" Spock demanded gently while he continued to lick his ear, still riding his captain dry in perfect intervals of bump and grind.

Jim choked on his own spit, feeling humiliated. His strength was draining. It was becoming real that there was no escape. "Please stop, _Master_. Please. Please, Master, please…"

Spock acknowledged the vague request and stopped moving, however, he didn't release him. "I will not." He told his victim strongly. "You did not arrive for your exchange of payment. This, I will not tolerate. You must be punished to discourage future misbehaviour." Jim sneered in his arms, debating whether to laugh because he figured as much or cry because he imagined more electricity in his future.

With one strong hand Jim was whipped from Spock's front and spun around on the spot. The vulcan took both his shoulders aggressively in each palm and held him in place. They were so close that their noses were touching. Jim tried to keep his pride in tact, while Spock's gaze was determined to shatter it like glass. "The question is now, how should I punish you?" The captain fidgeted in his grip, feeling antsy and angry. The next thing Spock knew, Jim had spit in his face.

"You are stubborn." Spock replied, not bothering to dignify a flinch under the crude gesture. "I think I know of the perfect punishment. If you are going to act like a child, I will treat you like one. A whipping. Yes, logical."

Violently and with about as much pressure as a boa constrictor, he grasped Jim's hand and began to drag him towards the outskirts of the garden. Jim fought against the pull, trying to dislodge his hand from the iron hold. Those fingers might as well have been shackles. He only succeeded at straining his wrist. "Do not fight it, captain. I am three times your human might. Should it be called for, I _will_ drag you out."

"Fucking fuck! No! Let me go!" Jim pulled in the opposite direction, his feet sliding across the garden's slick grass in protest. That was enough to make Spock stop and glance back at his captive curiously.

His eyes narrowed under tilted brows. "No? Does this mean you wish to close your debt?" Jim choked again between the thought of what Spock was implying and about the idea of gnawing his own arm off. Right, yeah, this guy controlled his entire career. A career that he _could_ have gotten on his own—a career that he could lose with a simple standard word. Spock had decidedly taken away that freedom. Give and take. Yet, no fair balance between the two.

As much as he wanted to say yes, he didn't. Mainly because it wasn't true. He was beginning to wonder if his stubbornness was wearing out or that the ship just meant that much to him now. He couldn't say yes. He didn't want to. He wanted to keep the _Enterprise_… But this… this price…

"_Is it worth it?"_

In a brief moment of ceasefire, Spock's grip loosened ever so slightly that only desperation could have allowed him to notice it; Jim didn't bother to give either answer. With his own power, he stripped his hand free and began collapsing backwards toward the pond. This caused the first noticeable change in Spock's stoic wall of brutality.

The force of his release made him trip and fall bottom-first on to the soft surrounding pond soil. He scurried back until his fingers dipped into cool water. Spock's face had gone slightly pale and his brows knitted together.

"Jim," he said seriously and wasn't that a shock since Spock hardly ever called him that, "Jim, you need to get up."

"Fuck you!" He spat.

"This is not for discussion, Jim; you need to move over here." Was his tone taking a slight upturn? Maybe that was just fear in Jim's ears clouding the actual content of Spock's reaction.

Spock reached out a hand towards him, inching his way forward silently. With each step, Jim moved back as far as he could. Great, now his slacks were wet. He continued decline, kicking up muddy soil in his direction.

"You _must_ trust me." Spock began to say, his eyes not wavering from Jim. He completely ignored the flying dirt. "You will be safer with me."

"_HAH!_" Actual laughter was produced. Jim snuffed it with a jeer, beginning to finally work his legs into a stand. He was slightly wet from the pond's edge and dirty from the mud. "What the hell are you trying to pull?" He demanded while he debated the best escape. "Do you really expect me to be so inept that I can't judge between where I'll be safer and where I won—" He was cut short when Jim heard a loud sneeze behind him. Right after, a cloud of rainbow glitter began to settle all around him. Rumbling shook the ground beneath Jim's feet, forcing him to vibrate up and down a small patch of pond bank. It was one of those moments where what you thought was behind you wasn't exactly what you thought it was.

"Jim," Spock called to him as the captain began to slowly turn around, "No, captain! Do not look at it!" It was too late. Jim's jaw dropped at the sight of the _Unguis __Purpura_ Ryuujin. He didn't look at all like how Abbey looked or how he had looked a few minutes ago when he'd pointed him out to Sulu. The red/purple stem had extended and fattened like a thick pig's hide. The leaves shuddered and sharpened like spikes on tree trunks and the bulb no longer resembled a tiny, dotted soccer-ball. The bloom had expanded and was opened wide, tiny daggers that resembled teeth poking forward with vines noodling out of its gaping maw like wormy, thick tongues. Ryuujin was _significantly_ larger than Abbey.

Somehow, Sulu had forgotten to mention these tiny details in his educational tour.

"Spo…ck?" Without warning, Ryuujin heaved up with a groaning screech and threw its bulb forward in an attempt to strike. Jim's reflexes wanted him to move, tried to move, but something kept his legs from working properly. He struggled, feeling his joints ache in protest when a figure tackled him and rolled them safely away from the drooling mouth. Ryuujin snapped at mud and dirt, lolling its head in the direction of his victims whom had fallen into the two-foot pond.

Drenched and immobile, Jim panicked. "Why can't I move! What's going on!" Spock, above him, took him by the collar and began ripping his uniform open unabashedly. This was absolutely the worst time for molesty vulcan being molesty. "Goddamnit, Spock! I know violence is a turn on for you, but this isn't the damn time!" There was little he could do since his limbs wouldn't respond. He had no way of knocking the commander off him. Profanities were all that was left in his arsenal. With unlimited ammunition.

Spock ignored his cries and frantically removed the uniform, throwing it somewhere into the pond. Out of the corner of his eye, Jim saw the plant attempting to reach them, shaking and vibrating as it tried to stretch its roots from the ground like massive swollen feet.

It felt like the entire ship shook when it finally pulled itself free. Jim's eyes widened. The plant snarled and sneezed more glitter, beginning to come at them like a barreling elephant. Each root/foot stomping like steel rods.

A firm hand took Jim and turned him over in the water. He fell on his hands and knees, even though he hardly felt them at all. Then, he felt Spock lean forward and place roaming fingers up and down his spine. They moved erratically and Jim was so pissed that he couldn't understand what was happening. His view was entirely blocked by the on-coming _Unguis __Purpura_.

"Spock," Jim warned as it charged closer, "Spoooock, Spock! Plant! It's like, right there! Do something!" Fingers etched into his back and scratched long lines down his vertebrae. It caught him by surprise, making him gasp in sudden pain. He felt himself begin to burn immediately. Trails of fire down his spine. Jim jumped up from the pond with as much force as a man hell bent on reaching the moon in one go. He stopped, doubled back and noticed that he could suddenly move again. He looked at Spock covered in surprise, "What the hell did you do?" There was no time for an answer when Ryuujin slammed full front on to Spock. Jim didn't see what had happened due to most of the pond water splashing up from Ryuujin's slam.

The water settled quickly and the commander and plant toppled into the remaining. Jim could see Spock was holding its mouth open with nothing but his hands. Green blood trickled from where the teeth had managed to sink in. Vines from the mouth whipped along Spock's body and gripped him lewdly. Jim stood back and looked on completely horrified. On one hand, he was anxious because he didn't know such a thing existed on his ship (wondering distantly how the hell it'd gotten approved)—but on the other, Jim's conscience was beating at him for actually enjoying the prospect that Spock may die from this, or at minimum be maimed. He stood there longer than he should, just watching Spock and the plant roll in the water. Spock was strong, but he was losing the battle.

Should he help? Should he do anything? Wasn't this what Spock deserved?

Seconds ticked by. With a bitter groan, Jim fought with himself until finally, he concluded that he couldn't live with himself if he didn't act as the damn captain he was suffering to be. Revenge be damned, no one _deserved_ to die. Not even sadistic, controlling, cruel, twisted vulcans bound in unbalanced debt games.

"Son of a _fuck_ _me_." Jim ran after the rolling pair and managed to tackle the bulb just as it tried to snap at Spock. 'Tackle' actually wasn't the right word for what Jim did; there just wasn't a single word to describe punching a plant in the bulb and taking a full chomp on his left arm. The pain was unbearable and crunched like plywood.

"Captain!" Spock called, trying to get himself free from the tongue-like vines.

At that moment, the garden doors could be heard bursting open in the distance. After a few seemingly endless seconds, several security officers and a few from the biology labs came running to their assistance. The pain in his arm blinded Jim from most of what happened next. He saw much controlled panic, heard a few phasers, blurs of moving colour, and finally stayed conscious long enough to witness Dr. McCoy and his team's arrival.

It could have been anything. Fatigue, blood loss, fear—it didn't matter if it was one or a combination that did it. When McCoy's running feet could be seen stomping through the puddles towards them in what looked like a fading tunnel vision, Jim let himself relax and be taken by the inviting black.

_Please… _

_Someone… help me._

…

…

He woke in the kind of fog that told you that you _might_ have been slipped something the night before. Pressure. Heaviness, then voices.

"You completely disregarded my order,"

"Damnit, Spock, wake the whole sickbay why don't you!"

"This does not concern you, doctor."

"The hell it doesn't! Sulu shouldn't even be in here while you're_both_ still healing!"

"The captain has yet to regain consciousness. As second in command it is my duty to—"

Jim rolled over and groaned on what felt like the unforgiving matted and crinkly surface of a sickbay biobed. The voices echoing into him had suddenly stopped.

"Jim! Jim, can you hear me?" The voice was brash, except it was not laced with the usual cynical evil and the promise of midnight milkings. No, this one belonged to a hot-headed and angry friend that, even with his temper, wouldn't hurt anyone. In fact, it was his job to heal them.

Leonard 'Bones' McCoy.

He opened his eyes weakly into the bright lighting of a sickbay room. It stung. Bones's worried face was the first to come into focus, then the distant shadows behind him turned into Commander Spock and Lt. Sulu. Both were looking on curiously, despite that there appeared to be a heated argument going.

Bones smiled, obviously relieved by Jim's waking. Coincidentally, Jim had a short-lived pang of disappointment that they had survived. "How are you feeling?"

Jim flicked his gaze over at Spock before returning back to McCoy. He smirked, biting his lower lip. "Abused."

McCoy didn't catch the silent plea. Instead, he took it as the many flippant comments Jim routinely made after suffering an injury of some kind. "Well, after what that thing did to you, I'm not surprised in the least. The fact that you and Spock got away with only minor lacerations and fractures is in itself astounding." He shook his head and pointed vaguely at Jim's left arm, which he noted, was wrapped in bandages and had a small wheeled device circling over it. It was a healing rotator. Often used on damaged tissue that had potential to become scars.

"Spock tells me he would have been killed had you not intervened."

Spock made a distant disgruntled sound. "I said no such thing, doctor." McCoy waved him off.

"Well, that's not _exactly_ what he said, but the basic gist of it." He leaned forward within whispering distance of his captain and chuckled, "You know how he is. Damn stubborn vulcan. Can't even get him to thank you!"

Jim gritted his teeth and forced a smile. "I can't imagine why." McCoy pulled away. From there, he began checking his stats and making notes on his dataPADD.

Jim sat back, feeling his bed begin to incline behind him. Nurse Chapel was beside him, her pearly smile letting him know he was safe. For the time being. When the bed was sufficiently lifted, she excused herself and left. Now Jim could get a look at the whole room. Spock and Mr. Sulu weren't as far away as his mind led him to believe. It looked like they had shared one room together.

"What happened?" Jim suddenly asked, feeling his arm tingle from the healing device. At that, he saw Spock stiffen under the few bandages placed on his hands and naked, hirsute chest, and Mr. Sulu's cheeks deepen considerably. No body answered him for a few tense moments. When Spock looked like he was about to explain, Sulu spoke up.

"It's my fault, sir." His voice shook. It took him a lot of strength to admit that. "R-remember when I told you that Mr. Spock had ordered me to move Ryuujin?" Jim absently nodded. "Well, I wasn't being completely honest, sir." He dropped his head low, ashamed. "He'd actually ordered me to dispose of him entirely. You see, Lt. White wasn't just being pollinated by him—he'd been trying to bite her. I didn't think it was—ah—serious, you know, little nibbles here and there, and I didn't think it could get as serious as this. I should have gotten rid of him as per Mr. Spock's instruction. I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt."

Jim breathed and forced himself to look at his first officer. Behind closed doors and from the eyes of witnesses, they were players in a sick game of fuck and destroy, however, in the line of duty and with the watchful eyes of bystanders, they were a team. Always they were a team. Even if they didn't like the idea, as Spock mentioned once before. Captain and first officer in public—Master and slave when the lights went low.

Practice enabled him to keep his voice smooth. "Is what Mr. Sulu says true, Mr. Spock?"

"Yes, captain." He offered seamlessly without the amount of trouble Jim faced transitioning between public and private affairs. "_Unguis __Purpura_ is known to be carnivorous once fully grown. This is why I made it clear to Mr. Sulu that _both_ specimens were to be removed from the ship." Jim saw Sulu choke. After a full evening of discussing nothing but botany, Jim understood just how dearly the helmsman felt for what others took for granted. They were special to him like children to their parents. His love for them had blinded him of the dangers they held.

Regardless, Jim, as captain, knew what he had to do. It really hurt him to say it, knowing that Mr. Sulu deep down hadn't meant any harm. "Mr. Sulu, you're to be on probation for the next two weeks. Confined to your cabin for meals and recreation."

"Y-yes, sir." Sulu said dully.

"Also, I want you to inform Dr. Burkes and his assistant to remove the remaining _Unguis __Purpura_ from the side gate and the centre structure of the botanic garden if it is still present." Sulu gave a grave nod in understanding. "Well, go on then." Jim told the helmsman. "You're dismissed." He left without another word, his cheeks beginning to puff and his face retain the flustered colour of humiliation. That made Jim feel terrible. To him, it felt like he'd just ordered his helmsman to go murder his family. Once he was gone, Jim blinked up to his doctor, his concerns voiced.

"Do you think I was too harsh?"

McCoy shook his head. "I don't see why you'd think that. The plants were obviously a danger and he knew it. Appropriate action if you ask me." Jim nodded to himself, looking back at his arm. The evidence didn't lie. McCoy took the device away gently.

"It'll be sore for a few days," Dr. McCoy began to say, "but nothing a little bed rest won't cure. And,"

"And?" Jim asked, seeing that McCoy was giving him a suspicious glare.

"And," He paused, checking Jim's chart again. He looked over the rim of the chart with a pure seriousness only a doctor could fathom, "will you care to explain how you managed to get those nasty gashes on your spine?"

…


End file.
